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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848866">Alone at the Edge of a Universe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/breemaybe/pseuds/breemaybe'>breemaybe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Super Dangan Ronpa 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(minor though) - Freeform, AFAB reader - Freeform, Blood and Injury, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Komaeda Nagito As The Servant, Panic Attacks, Penis In Vagina Sex, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, i love this nasty little man so much, i reference some classic lit cause im a loser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:15:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/breemaybe/pseuds/breemaybe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You were in an accident before everything went to hell. You don't remember how it all started. Now you live in a small apartment with a strange man who seems to be trying his best to look after you, but doesnt know how to take care of himself.</p><p>AKA: oh my god they were roommates.....Despair Edition TM</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Komaeda Nagito/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Alone at the Edge of a Universe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm on my way to posting more komaeda x reader fics than anyone else in this damn tag. More to come LOL</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s an explosion outside your window, and something huge tumbles to the ground. Everything in the apartment is shaking, Knick-knacks wobble and fall off the mantle, smashing on the floor, the bed frame shakes and lurches underneath you. Your fingers are digging tight into the quilt, trying to find purchase somewhere in the quake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is not your first collapsing building, and you fear it will not be your last. The world outside the apartment is dangerous and frightening, layers upon layers of horror folded together into the culmination of true despair. You don’t remember how it happened. It was some time ago (weeks? Months? Years?) that you woke up in a hospital, weak and emancipated, barely able to walk. You had been in some sort of accident, whatever happened to the world, started while you were still comatose and all the doctors were long gone when you finally came to. The fact that your life support was even still running was a stroke of luck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s another thundering outside, but this one doesn’t make the house shake. Another building? You can't be sure, it was too far away to be of any danger to you so there is no reason to think about it. Instead you pull yourself up from the bed, bringing one foot down on the floor and being absolutely sure that there won't be any aftershocks before standing up properly. There are little broken pieces of glass and china all over the wooden floorboards, you cross the room on your tip-toes, careful to avoid any of the more dangerous looking shards. It is as you feared, your favorite knick-knack had also broken. You drop into a crouch, trying your best to gather the shattered pieces of what had once been a small glass jar full of little keepsakes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your housemate (if you could call him that) frequently brings back little presents from his adventures out into the fractured city. But this had been your favorite, a blue jar with a cork stopper, full of buttons, beads, marbles. Any pretty trinkets he could find for you. The shattering of this particular gift hurts something terrible, because you know it took him a very long time to collect it all. You manage to find a sturdier jar that survived the quake (it was once holding three stems of lavender, long since dead) and scoop as many of the shards and trinkets that you can inside. It isn't as pretty, but it will do for now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s been gone for a week now, and you are hoping he will be back today.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he first brought you to the apartment, you couldn't even stand. Confused and scared about what had happened to the world during your coma, and having trouble remembering what your life was like before either. The apartment was a mess when he first found it, but there was a bed and clean sheets in a closet, so it was fine. He sat with you for hours, barely moving, just watching as you slipped in and out of consciousness, as the world finally came into focus. At first you were afraid of him, of his dishevelled appearance, trembling limbs and wide watery eyes. He never made any move to touch you, he sat there and would answer questions if you asked them, but otherwise just watched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once you were able to move on your own, he started heading outside for longer stretches of time. He used to just leave for a few hours each week to bring you back enough food until his next trip, but now he is often gone for days at a time. You wonder how long it will be before you can go outside with him. He is strange, but given the state of the world outside, you can’t imagine anyone else is faring much better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You manage to salvage a decent amount of the broken trinkets and either pour them into a vacant jar or the trash and are in the middle of sweeping away any remaining shards when you hear a shaky knock on the door. He has a key, but he always knocks anyway. You let the broom drop to the ground and dash over to the door to let him in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” you say, pulling the door open. His red striped sweater has more holes in it than it did last you saw him, his hair curled and messy, more grey than white. His disheveled appearance means little, you are thrilled to see him, “Welcome home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes are desperate as he looks you over, crossing the threshold of the apartment and closing the door behind him, “The quake...are you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I stayed in bed the whole time, I’m fine.” You attempt to take his rucksack from him, to help him carry it to the kitchen. He pulls it away from you and carries it on his own, “A bunch of the gifts you brought me fell off the mantle, though. I should have been keeping them somewhere safer, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wheezes, giggling under his breath as he starts pulling food out from the rucksack and onto the bench, “Don’t waste such sweet apologies on me. I can find more gifts if you want them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With you standing in the sitting room, and him unloading groceries in the kitchen. In a different time, this may have been domestic. Your heart warms at the thought, “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trouble?” He doubles over with laughter, the sound is scratchy in his throat, “You could never cause </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> any trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t look like he belongs in the nice clean apartment. He stands in the middle of the room, all shaking limbs and wheezy breaths, clutching his own arms like it’s the only thing still keeping him together, but you can tell he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay?” You ask, “you were outside when it happened” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He giggles breathlessly, gnawing on the cuff of his sleeve, “you are worried about </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>His knees shake like they're about to give out and he buzzes with manic energy, “Aha! the extent of your hope, it’s incomparable!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You suddenly notice a line of blood running down from his forehead, curling down past his eyebrow and over his cheekbone. You rush over to him and take his face in your hands. His skin is pallid and sickly, his lips chapped and bleeding. You push his mess of dirty hair away from his forehead and gasp, “you’re really hurt, why didn't you tell me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything, he’s just staring at you with wet unblinking eyes as a wide smile tugs at his lips. Shuddering under the soft grip of your hands. The gash on his forehead is shallow, but blood is gushing out of it quite quickly and you aren’t really sure what to do. As you look closer at the wound, his eyes flutter shut and you feel him leaning into your palm. Your heart thunders in your chest, he’s cute under all the dirt and grime. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cares for you a great deal, you aren't sure why. He won't even tell you his name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wash it out for you. Okay?” You say, taking one of his hands in yours and tugging him towards the bathroom. The one gentle tug on his hand is enough that he almost topples over, but he rights himself quickly. His hand is quivering in yours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! You don't need to do that!” he protests, but continues obediently following after you, “I’ve dealt with much worse, aha! Don't bother dirtying your hands to fix something that will only break again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You grab him by the shoulders and lower him down onto the toilet seat. His big eyes peer up at you from behind the mass of hair now tumbling down over his face, he watches you with a pointed devotion that might make you uncomfortable if you weren't already used to it. He brings his sleeve up to his mouth to chew on it again, you take his hand in yours and lower it before he gets the chance, “I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His nails dig into the meat of his thighs and he is shivering again. You can feel his legs bouncing as you lean forward to take a better look at the gash on his forehead, he whines when he feels your fingers brush his hair away from his face. You sigh at him, “You know this will get infected if you don't clean it, don't you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He whimpers, practically rattling as his tremors get worse, “How kind of you to notice! But I have more important matters to attend to of course.” another bout of laughter boils through him, shaking his bony shoulders,“like you, for instance!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You drop to a crouch so you can meet his eyes, resting one hand on his shoulder and holding his hair back with the other, “You can't look after me if you’re dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I won't die.” He breathes, the depths of his eyes shining with a shocking lucidity, “Not yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He really believes that. You can see it on his face, “Either way. I’m going to clean it. Sit tight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting tight is not possible. To his credit, he doesn't move on purpose, but he is still shaking intensely as he waits for you. His protruding knees knocking as his legs bounce up and down. You purse your lips and wet a cloth in the sink, the water is a little brown, but all of the water is a little brown so there isn't much you can do about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” You say, turning back to him and lifting the cloth to his forehead, “Let me know if it stings too much, alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods, smiling up at you pleasantly as you bring the cloth down on the gash. There is a lot of blood, the coppery smell is overwhelming but you try your best to seem like it isn't affecting you. If there is any pain, it doesn't seem to be bothering him, his eyes are closed again and he is leaning gently into your touch. Your heart warms for him, and the hand you are using to hold his hair out of his face starts gently scratching his scalp. You hear him gasp, but he makes no move to stop you. His hair is soft, you can feel the grit of dirt and smoke caught up in it, but under that...he is so soft. The blood running down his face is well clean by now, but you don't stop. The washcloth falls from your hand with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>splat</span>
  </em>
  <span> and his eyes snap open. One of your hands is buried in his hair, combing the mess through your gentle fingers, the other traces the sharp line of his jaw, all the way up to and then down his cheekbone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” He asks, you are dimly aware that his shaking has stopped. At least for now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your pointer finger runs up the bridge of his nose and over his right eyebrow, now you are the one shaking, “I...don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re touching me.” He breathes</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your voice is barely a whisper when you reply, “I am.” you let your hand drop, “I’m sorry. I don't know why i did that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reaches out and takes your hand in his, pressing it firmly to his cheek. His eyes are wild, “You can do whatever you want to me! I don't mind!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His suggestion raises an unwarranted heat to your cheeks. You gently tug your hand from his grasp, “There’s some vodka in the cupboard. Give me a moment to disinfect you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You pick the cloth up off the ground and leave it on the side of the sink as you walk over to the kitchen. All of the food he brought back with him is still strewn about on the countertop, abandoned when you realised how badly hurt he was. You worry about him. Constantly. He was the one who found you half crawling, half stumbling through the desolate remains of the city mere hours after you woke up in the crumbling shell of the hospital. Since then he has been so careful of you, making sure you are well fed, bringing you gifts or clothes, anything he can find out there. He clearly doesn't extend the same olive branch to himself. You stand up on your toes to grab the alcohol from the top shelf, it was already here when he first found the apartment. Half empty. You hope whoever lived here before you had enjoyed it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is going to hurt.” You warn as you step back into the bathroom. He nods loosely and you wring the cloth out as best you can before dousing it in the vodka, “Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pain or pleasure,” he starts, looking up at you with a loopy smile, “anything I feel by your hand is exhilarating.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. You liked </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It made something in the pit of your stomach twist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You clear your throat and crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair out of the way. His eyes are half lidded, and you can tell he is uncomfortably lucid. He intimidates you a little like this, there is a sharp intellect behind his big green eyes that feels like he is dissecting you with his stare alone. Even though he has stilled quite a bit, his hands are still jittering at his sides. You gently press the alcohol soaked rag to the gash in his forehead, he hisses through his smiling teeth, but the sound teeters dangerously close to being a moan. You swallow, continuing your ministrations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” You ask, purposely focussing on cleaning his wound so you don't have to meet his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” He says. It doesn't sound like he’s lying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” You reply, “I trust you, but you can't hide these things from me. I have a duty to keep you safe, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shudder runs through him at your words and his eyes flutter shut. Like he is savoring it, “You are too generous, truly.” his voice is so breathy, and your positioning makes it sound like he is whispering in your ear. You bite your lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is not generosity.” You laugh a little, your fingers tangling in his hair again, “It’s selfishness. You are all I have and I don't want to lose you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is shaking again, his long fingers grasping at nothing. Like he desperately wants to hold you but knows he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can't</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His arms wrap around himself instead, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as he rocks back and forth, “Aha! A regular Pylades you are, looking after trash like me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You have long since abandoned any pretense. Not even pretending to be tending to his wound anymore, your fingers brush through his hair unhindered, “Pylades?” you ask, twisting a lock of pale hair around your index finger. Surprised with how much classic literature he’s managed to remember through all this tragedy, this is not the first time he has quoted one such piece to you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From Euripides!” he’s grinning now, lips curled almost painfully wide, “You need me to jog your memory, hm?” He asks, leaning forward. He is very close to you now, and your hand freezes in his hair, “Orestes says ‘it’s rotten work’ and Pylades replies-”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. You do know this one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not to me.” You breathe, heart thumping in your chest and mouth going dry. Your hand slides down from his hair to cup his cheek, you can feel his pulsepoint racing like a hummingbird under your thumb. He is so close now, you can see flecks of gold in his eyes. You can count his eyelashes. You are shaking, “Not if it’s you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, you think you are going to kiss him. For a moment, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kiss him. Instead you let your hand drop from his cheek and stand back up, “It’s um...it’s as clean as im going to get it. Might need stitches, but i dont have the means or the skill to do that for you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brings his arms up in a shrug, “No matter. So long as you’re satisfied.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This isn't about my satisfaction.” You say, crossing your arms, “You need to take better care of yourself out there. Look, maybe next time i should come with you and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shoots upright, suddenly towering above you, all quivering limbs and sweaty palms, “Nonononono. You have to-” he sucks in a wheezy breath and shakes his head, “-you have to stay in here. For you to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>tainted </span>
  </em>
  <span>by the world outside, the despair it would-” a breathy laugh escapes his lips, growing and growing in volume, his hands tanging his hair pulling strands out at the roots, “-It would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>glorious</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He growls, shaking and panting as he starts hitting himself in the head with his fist and a crescendo of, “nononononononono” is erupting from the cavern of his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is frightening, but you are used to it. He gets in these fits sometimes, but has never attempted to hurt you, it’s more like he’s fighting himself. You wrap both your hands around his wrist, holding his arm still so he can’t use it to hit himself anymore before slowly bringing it back down to his side. He is still shaking with a mania that seeps out through every pore, but at least he isn't hurting himself. His mouth runs a mile a minute, arguing with both himself and people you have never met. He talks to them a lot, these other people, you don't want to ask him about them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” you whisper, “I’m here. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His big eyes turn to you, but he doesn't calm. He is still muttering and shaking, but this is okay. You start slowly rubbing your hands up and down the length of his forearms, “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He whines and brings one of his sleeves up to his mouth to gnaw on it. You don't stop him, when he gets like this it’s one of his less destructive habits. It's preferable to scratching. You keep rubbing his free arm, your other hand curled around his hip. His eyes are slowly growing less wild, drool is dripping down his chin, “Alright. We’re going to move to the couch. Nice and slow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You loop his arm over your shoulders and tuck your other hand into his back pocket, slowly walking him over to the couch. This is the main reason you haven't left the apartment, the door unlocks from the inside so if you really wanted to, you could leave at any time. You’re scared though, both of what is waiting out in the city, and of what will happen to him if he comes back one day to find you gone. He is finally starting to calm when you lower him down onto the couch, still chewing absently on his sleeve, but his breathing has slowed a little. A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you tuck some of his hair behind his ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you worry about me so much?” You ask, more to yourself than to him. Stroking his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb, “I am no one to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is tired now after his episode, his arm is slow and shaky as he reaches out to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist. The warmth of his skin seeps in through your shirt, your heart climbs up into your throat when he </span>
  <em>
    <span>squeezes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “You are hope. You are everything to me.” his eyes are half lidded, and his smile is soft, “The corruption, the despair it...haahaa...it tainted us all, but you-” he takes a deep, shuddering breath, “-you slept right through it. You’re still hopeful...still perfect…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if I hadn't. What would I be to you then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dead, most likely.” He sighs and it rattles through his chest, “Is there even a point to talking about what might have been? In my experience it has never helped any.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s right. You hate the idea of a reality where you never meet him. This realisation makes your stomach turn. Familiarity breeds comfort, but when what is familiar is a man who is (under dirt and grime and sweat)  incredibly beautiful, you find that it breeds something else as well. You give the hand on your waist a pat, and he lets you go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The sun is setting.” You say, trying to distract yourself from how much you want his hand against you again, “I’m going to light some candles before it gets dark.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Before you do.” He manages to pull himself up from the couch and stumbles over to his rucksack, bending over and rummaging through it some, “I hm...i found something for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stand in the middle of the room, the last dregs of daylight are casting an orange light over his shaking form. He comes back over to you, holding out his offering, for a moment you're not even sure what it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god…” You whisper, turning it over in your hands. It’s a polaroid camera, a little banged up but it looks like it will still work, “thank you.” you smile up at him, heart melting to nothing in your chest, “thank you so much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs a little, shaking as he passes another two objects over to you, “I only found two film cartridges, but i can look for more!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! This is perfect, I'm amazed you even managed to find two.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My luck may not be worth much.” He says with a sad smile, “but if i’m able to bring you some happiness with it, then i'm glad!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here, just...give me a second.” Your hands are shaking as you fumble with the first cartridge, popping open the back of the camera and clicking it in. Before he has a chance to protest (because you know he will) you lift the camera up to your eye and snap a photo. For a moment he is dazzled by the flash, but then immediately starts wheezing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha....What?” His knees are wobbling again, his eyes are wide and unblinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The photo slides out of the camera and you grab it between your index finger and thumb, giving it a light shake, “I took a photo of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>that?” He’s laughing, but it sounds more confused than it does manic, “You only have two cartridges of film and you would </span>
  <em>
    <span>waste </span>
  </em>
  <span>a photo on garbage like me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't think it was a waste.” The photo has just about finished developing, the light from the flash doesnt do his already pale skin any favors, but you smile all the same, “Sometimes you’re gone for a long time, and if i can't come with you then...i dunno, it’ll be nice to have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You...miss me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You see no reason to lie, “I miss you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is just staring at you now, eyes slowly examining every inch of your face. Your heart is racing. He takes a slow, shaky step towards you, practically vibrating with nervous energy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn't.” He says, even as his trembling hand rests on your hip, the pads of his fingers slipping up under your shirt to stroke your skin, “I’m disgusting for even </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking </span>
  </em>
  <span>about all that I want to do with you.” His grip on your hip grows tighter, and you feel a warmth in your stomach, “If you knew...eheh...if you could see what i was thinking right now.” his breathing has quickened, and the hand on your hip is trembling. So are your legs, “you’d kick me out of this apartment like the...the...haahhaa...the </span>
  <em>
    <span>perverted </span>
  </em>
  <span>trash that i am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any thoughts within you about resisting or denying him have long dissipated. You do not even hesitate as you loop an arm behind his head, digging your fingers into the back of his hair, “I wouldn't.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't say anything, he’s just looking at you and trembling. A whiny moan escaping his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The things you want to do to me…” You start, fingers slipping under his striped sweater, just enough to feel his skin, “Show me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand joins its brother on your hips, and he tugs you towards him. Your lips colliding in a desperate kiss, all tangled tongues and nipping teeth. You moan into his open mouth, your fingers tangling even tighter in the mess of hair on the back of his head, he groans when you tug a little harder, slipping one of his hands up the front of your shirt and palming you over your bra. You cling to each other like two lost sailors adrift in the sea, attempting to find purchase in a world long gone. Your kisses open mouthed, wet and sloppy, desperate and needy. He is moaning and shaking, his long fingers tightly squeezing your breast as his other arm wraps around your waist and somehow tugs you even closer. He is so thin, pressed up against him like this you can feel his bones shifting under his skin. You bite his neck so hard you taste copper on your tongue and a moan explodes from his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes...</span>
  <em>
    <span>yes!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He stammers, drooling and shaking. His mouth pulled in such a wide smile that his lips tear and bleed, “hurt me...hng-hahAHA...</span>
  <em>
    <span>des</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>troy</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> me</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your hands become frantic, grabbing his jacket and tugging it down his arms. His sweatshirt soon follows, ripped up over his head with a tenacity you didn't even know you had. You want to feel his skin, to suck, to bite, to bury your nails in it. Desperation is building inside you, almost ready to overflow. His skin is salty with sweat when you run your tongue over the length of his collarbone, fingers on your left hand running over each jutting rib as you slip your hand down to grasp his hip. The bone is sharp under the soft skin of your palm. Despite all his sweating and panting, his flesh is still cold under your hand, you want to warm him up. You tug your own shirt up over your head, chucking it behind you and unclasping your bra. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A wheezing laugh escapes him, he pushes his hair away from his face but it immediately falls back down again, “You...you’re…” his breath hitches, his pointer finger traces the underside of breast, shaky and cold, “you’re so soft...so </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” he moans, licking his lips, “my goddess...would you permit me to pleasure you with my mouth?” he purrs. His eyes are swirling with arousal, his hand creeping up to massage your breast in his palm. It feels so good, he feels so good. He looks at you with this endless devotion, like you are something precious to be protected and </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My guardian angel.” you whisper, tucking a wisp of hair behind his ear, “Whatever you want to do to me. Do it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His ghostly green eyes are blown wide, and he is wheezing again, “You just...what did you just call me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would have died out there on my own. You know that right?” You say, leaning in close enough that the tips of your breasts brush against his bare chest and cupping his cheek in your palm, “You saved my life. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>my guardian angel.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are too kind to me, truly.” He whispers, his cold hands moving to your shoulders as he guides you backwards, “I am little more than garbage after all.” the back of your knees hit the couch and you collapse onto it, “Just a bug under the heel of an ultimate’s shoe...but you...hm…” he drops to his knees in front of you, his grin is all sharp teeth and drool. Some people might have been afraid of him, you thought he was the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen, “you deserve to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>worshipped</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” he breathes against your skin, leaning in and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. His mouth is warm and wet, you throw your head back in a wail, digging your fingers into the mess of hair on his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand slides up the side of your ribcage, thumb rubbing small practiced circles around your other nipple. A needy moan escapes your lips, and your legs drop open almost instinctively. He scrambles forward to nestle himself between them, the sharp angles of his torso dig into the soft flesh of your thighs and his free arm wraps around your waist to tug to two of you even closer together. A strangled cry rips through you as the bare skin of his chest presses firmly against your sex, hips bucking against him almost involentarily, overcome with a desire to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He laughs against your breast, sinking his teeth into your flesh as his tongue continues lathing across your pert nipple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm...you’re so soft…” He whispers, resting his cheek on the plump skin of your breast, “your skin is so smooth…” His other hand is still toying with your nipple, rolling it in between the calloused pads of his thumb and forefinger, “haaAAH...I’m so lucky. You permitting scum like me to pleasure you? Your kindness is...hm, how could I put it?” his tongue darts out to give your nipple a lick, you shiver, “It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>inexorable</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wrong again.”, You laugh breathily, carting your fingers through his unruly hair, “This is no kindness. This is desire, unflinching. I want you so badly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>selfishly</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A raspy giggle escapes him, shaking his shoulders as he pulls his arms from you to wrap them around himself instead, “Someone like you getting so riled up over someone like me...eheh…” His hands are shaking when he brings them back down to your waist, gripping the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, “The ideas I have - the things I want to do with my fingers,” he starts pulling your pants down. You lift yourself up a little to help him pull them over your hips, warmth blooming in your cheeks, he moans at the mere </span>
  <em>
    <span>sight </span>
  </em>
  <span>of your panties, “f-fuck…” he whines, all drool and sweat, “i want to finger you until i </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Oh...</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he’s kneeling lower down now, you can feel him shaking between your thighs, “you smell so good...i want to eat you until there's nothing left. Like you’re my last meal…” his hands come up and grip your thighs tight, he leans in closer to your center and you can barely hold in a moan when you feel his nose bump against the wet spot on your panties. You don't hold in the moan when you feel his tongue. You aren't sure you could if you tried, it tears out of you, the one swipe of his tongue over your soaked panties is like a bolt of lightning to your cunt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He continues like this for a while, moaning and shaking as he drags his tongue up and down your panties. Occassionally suckling your clit through the fabric. His bony fingers dig so tight in the soft flesh of your thighs that you swear you’ll have bruises tomorrow morning. After one particularly brutal suck, all you can do is sob, pulling his hair so tight that his lips are torn away from your centre. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something wrong?” He asks, playing innocent, but the look in his eye is cool and intelligent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You heave a shaky breath, staring down at him, “Take them off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You swear you see his hips twitch at your demand. Eyes glazing over and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he hooks his fingers through the legs of your panties and tugs them down, leaving them to dangle off your left ankle. A whimper escapes you at the feeling of his breath against your wetness, his hands are hovering above you, shaking in the air like he isn't sure what to do with them. He wants to touch </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he just can't decide where to start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the end, his left hand comes to rest at your hip, while his right middle and ring fingers push their way inside you. Your head lolls backward and your mouth drops open with a long moan at the feeling. His fingers are longer than yours are. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> longer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can feel you...</span>
  <em>
    <span>twitching</span>
  </em>
  <span> around me.” he makes a strangled noise, half a laugh, half a moan and pistons his fingers slowly in and out of you. The sound it makes is </span>
  <em>
    <span>obscene</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it seems to only encourage him further. He leans in, and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently and occasionally flicking it with his tongue. Your hips buck reflexively, trying to get closer to his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh - ah! You taste so sweet...” he whispers against you, his breath cold on your burning flesh, “I - mmph...i feel like adam biting the apple...or persephone swallowing the pomegranate seeds...haah…” he removes his fingers, and his tongue slips inside you, swirling around before he returns his attention to your clit, “But which do you think it will be, hm? Will i be forced to leave you, or will i be bound to you for all eternity?” his eyes meet yours, boiling with passion and desire. He looks godlike between your thighs, grinning up at you with sharp teeth and the sheen of your own slick all over his chin. All you can do is shake and moan, quivering for want of him, “Care to try your luck answering the million dollar question, my goddess?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never leave me…” you say, chest heaving. You reach down and cup his face in your hand, “I will never ask you to leave me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never?” he asks, his smile growing manic and his nails digging into your thighs. You hiss at the pain, “A dangerous promise.” His tongue enters you again and he moans sinfully against your skin, slowly thrusting the wet muscle in and out of you. His hands slip down under you and he lifts you up by you ass, pulling your sex even closer to his face. You whimper and moan and </span>
  <em>
    <span>grind </span>
  </em>
  <span>against him. Fingers tangled in the mess of his hair as he tongue fucks you into oblivion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s whining and groaning, devouring you like a man starved, and when you feel the couch lurch, you realise he is also desperately grinding his cock into the front of it. You tug on his hair again, weaker than last time as the wobbly feeling of pleasure has overtaken you. He slowly draws back from your sex, licking his lips and staring up at you with his intimidating eyes, “Mm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shaky breath rattles through your lungs and you lean forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, “I want you inside of me. Would that be okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was already inside you.” He says, smirking and sticking out his tongue as a reminder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what i mean.” Your eyes flit down to the tent in his jeans, making what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> want even more obvious than it already is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You spoil me.” He breathes, pressing a wet kiss to your jawline, “You couldn’t possibly know how desperately I want to sink myself inside you...but I- </span>
  <em>
    <span>haaahh</span>
  </em>
  <span>...I am not worthy of such an </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimate </span>
  </em>
  <span>act.” His fingers reach out, and slowly begin circling your clit, you choke on a moan, “I am more than happy to pleasure you like this...no need to worry about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>satisfaction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see you come undone.” You hiss as his index finger circles you entrance, “I want you on top of me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside </span>
  </em>
  <span>of me. I-“ his finger pushes inside and your breath catches, “-I want you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A giggle bursts from his lips that quickly grows into a cackle. His shoulders shaking with its intensity, a line of drool dripping down his chin, he throws his arms wide and shoots you a manic grin. All teeth and gums, “If that is what you truly desire, then it would be pointless to deny you any further!” He clambors up from the floor, stumbling a little as he struggles to remove his jeans, “After all, I want you as well.” He purrs, his jeans and boxers dropping to the floor, “More than that…” he breathes, lowering you by your shoulders until you are lying back on the couch and nestling himself in between your open legs. Your heart is racing, he is hovering over you now. His lips barely a breath from yours, and the head of his cock brushing against your sex. He groans, “My goddess, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hunger </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hisses a breath in through his teeth as he starts pushing himself into you. Hips shaking as he resists the urge to shove himself in with one long stroke, his eyes roll back into his head and he moans. The feeling of him slowly entering you, combined with watching the strangled ecstasy on his face, it’s the most aroused you’ve ever been. You can feel yourself clenching around him, your own hips quivering as he finally bottoms out inside of you with a raspy groan, “So wet…” he hisses, “You feel so good around me…” he slips one of his hands down between the both of you, rubbing gentle circles around you clit. You keen loudly at the feeling and his hips stutter into yours, “Y-you like that, huh? I felt you tighten around me…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod loosely, struggling to speak through your moans, “Please...move…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He visibly shudders at your request, slowly inching his hips backward, and then forward again at full force. A moan that shifts to laugh halfway through escapes his lips, and he finally sets his rhythm. His hips snap against yours with a desperate fervor, he whines and mewls above you, his hair bouncing delicately with the movement. Eyes half lidded and drool slowly dripping down his chin. You look up at him in absolute awe, he looks and sounds like an </span>
  <em>
    <span>angel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Covered in grime, twisted and tangled, but an angel all the same. His fingers return to your clit and you moan again, digging your nails into the skin of his back, tracing the protruding vertebrae with your fingertips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A particularly deep thrust causes a choked sob to break forth from his lips, his head lolls forward and he nuzzles into the join between your shoulder and neck, “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” he breathes, hips still pumping, “I’m throbbing...can you feel it? Can you feel what you are doing to me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You can feel the warmth of his cock pulsing inside of you. His arms are trembling and his breath is a rapid staccato, he’s trying to maintain his composure, “You feel so good, sweetheart.” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. He breath hitches when you call him </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweetheart</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are so kind to me…” He wheezes, his breath warm against the column of your throat. You shiver, a strangled moan escaping you as his dexterous fingers circle your clit even faster. Your thighs tighten around his narrow waist, hips grinding against the meat of his palm and deeper onto his cock. All you can do is shake and moan, the muscles in your stomach tight and only growing tighter. He looks at your face, visibly euphoric, “are you close?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod and he drags his tongue up the shell of your ear, “Jeez...I can’t believe trash like me is going to make you cum.” His eyes are wide when they meet yours, lips pulled tight in a grin, “You’re going to cum for me!” His hips move against yours at a frantic pace, his hands groping any part of you he can reach, a laugh in his chest building to a crescendo as he hits deeper and </span>
  <em>
    <span>deeper</span>
  </em>
  <span> inside of you, “You’re going to cum around me and I’m going to feel it...I-haaaaHAAAAA-“ he can’t speak any more, he’s laughing and moaning and fucking into you with an unbridled desperation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to...cum...Ah~ I want you to cum too…” you swallow, words catching in your throat when his fingers start working your clit again, “Cum inside me, angel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In-Inside?” He stutters, breath heaving and teeth clenched as he grows closer and closer to climax, “You would permit me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>soil</span>
  </em>
  <span> your insides with my filthy seed?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t just permit you. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging you!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Your hips are canting up to meet his, wanting to feel him as deep inside you as possible. Drawing yourself tantalisingly close to orgasm, “I want to see you, to feel you. Come undone for me, please.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His breath hitches, and his eyes grow dark. His fingers begin circling your clit at a brutal pace, his mouth collides with yours in a desperate kiss, all tongue and clicking teeth. You moan loudly into his open mouth, legs twitching underneath his frantic ministrations. His fingers on your clit, his cock pumping in and out of you, his tongue tangled with yours. The heat in the pit of your stomach is boiling, your breath is coming in gasps. It feels so good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re mine.” He whispers against your lips, and you swear you hear a sob catching in his throat, “accept me, please. Cum for me, my love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With those words, he kisses you firmly, thrusting deep and slow inside of you, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps as you cum with a strangled moan. Dragging your nails down his spine and curling your toes, warmth settles through your entire body and it feels like a perfect finality. He whines against your lips, grinding and writhing as you walls clench around him, then his eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open in the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cums</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face softens in that moment, and for just a second, he looks normal. Like someone you might pass on the street or sit next to in class. You see </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and your heart turns to butter. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Slowly, the speed of his thrusts peter out and he heaves a breath, eyes half lidded, giving you satisfied (albeit sleepy) smile. You return it, brushing your fingers down his cheekbone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” He whispers, eyes moist with what will soon be tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You curl your hand around the back of his head and tug his forehead down to your lips. His skin tastes like sweat, “No. Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaves the next morning. Unlike all the other times before, he never comes back.</span>
</p>
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